


11 June, 1940

by Val Mora (valmora)



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Gen, M/M, Resistance, WWII, rape and military occupation metaphors, unambiguously traumatized Denmark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-25
Updated: 2010-05-25
Packaged: 2017-11-28 00:54:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/668413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/valmora/pseuds/Val%20Mora
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Norway renders himself to Nazi Germany.</p>
            </blockquote>





	11 June, 1940

**Author's Note:**

> Norway officially capitulated to Nazi forces 10 June 1940 after two months' fighting (Denmark capitulated in about six hours but had a significant underground resistance movement), though its government in exile in Britain (and especially its navy and merchant marine) continued to fight.

He could have left with his king and his government. Britain had offered it to him: _There’s room for you and yours in the war effort. I – we – could damn well use you. I know my Navy could._

And Norway, heart heavy, thoughts full of the sound of the sea, had shaken his head and watched his king and his navy leave, and gone to render himself to Germany.

A Nation is not his king, nor Prime Minister, nor Chancellor nor any other head of state. A Nation is his people and his land. Those, Norway could not leave behind – God, how he’d tried. How he’d wanted to join with the sea. Impossible, then and now and always.

 

 

 

Germany shook his hand, firmly. His gloves shone, but they were sticky to the touch. Blood or more likely sweat.

“It pleases me that you have decided to surrender,” Germany said.

“I haven’t,” Norway stated flatly. “But you’re holding my people hostage. I don’t like that. So you get me, and my king and my navy go free.”

Germany’s eyes narrowed, and his hand twitched, like he wanted to strike Norway, but he held himself back. “I see,” he said, straightening. “This is all, of course, a formality. My home is small, but will be comfortable enough for your needs. You will, I regret, be sharing quarters with Denmark, which I trust will present no problems.” He opened the office door and began to escort Norway down the hall.

“None at all.” Better Denmark than Germany himself. Norway suspected Germany was the type to conduct his stress relief with most of his clothes on, and fix his clothes and exit immediately after. At least he was saved that indignity with Denmark.

He missed swearing blood-brotherhood during the Kalmar Union. Everything had been easier before puberty.

The shared living quarters were more like a single shared room. Denmark was sitting up in the bed, reading, when Norway was shown in, and he wasn’t even hurt – Norway, knuckles raw and bandaged, sore-ribbed and black-eyed, could hardly look at him.

“Norway?” Denmark said, “It’s you? I’m not…” He set his book down – the Bible, Norway noted with some disgust – and got off the bed.

“You’re not imagining me, no,” Norway said, “so you have not gone mad. What you are, however, is a coward.”

Denmark flinched but didn’t deny it.

“If you had been only a little prepared,” Norway said, “then Germany would not have run through you like – like cheap beer through a drunkard, and I would have had time to prepare. We could have held him off a little longer.”

“Cheap beer?” Denmark laughed, loud and raw, and covered his face with one hand, hiccoughing – “Cheap beer!” he repeated, and went to his knees on the floor, and only then did Norway realize he was weeping.

“I thought,” Denmark said, “I thought he’d – wait, you know? Gentleman-like. Give me a chance to give in, negotiate a little. God, wrong. He didn’t want me – just you. Your ports. Just, _Please sign this and institute the required changes immediately,_ and. Then onto you. If I’d known – I thought it would be Britain that took you. Not him. I.” He reached out a hand, touched the muddy toe of Norway’s boot.

Norway didn’t step away, though he wanted to. Denmark would never forget it if he did, and it wasn’t entirely Denmark’s fault. Denmark building up his military would have given Germany more reason to invade. He’d only stayed free so long because he had been so accommodating. Why should Germany have given him the chance to resist? Why should Germany have given either of them the chance?

He rested his hand in Denmark’s hair, and was surprised to see that Denmark didn’t flinch. Perhaps only his land had been raped, and not his body. More likely Norway was being naïve. “I suppose this means you and I are together again.”

Denmark sniffled faintly, rested his cheek against Norway’s hip. His tears left damp streaks in the cloth of Norway’s trousers and his nose was bright red.

“Well, all the better,” Norway said. “This way when we play stupid we can do it as a united front.”

“I have no idea,” Denmark hiccoughed, “what you mean by playing stupid.” His hair was soft between Norway’s fingers.

Norway would have smiled if he weren’t so tired, if he didn’t hurt so much. “I didn’t think you would,” he said.

**Author's Note:**

> My source is primarily Scandinavia During the Second World War, a lovely text edited by Henrik S. Nissen.
> 
> It was not just Denmark and Norway (and Britain, at one point) who suspected that Britain would invade Norway - Germany thought so too. That's why Germany wanted to get there first, for several reasons. Not least of them is that Norway is home to the strategic port of Narvik, from which Swedish iron ore (central to Germany's war effort) was shipped during the winter.  
> 


End file.
